


Will You Be There

by Esperata



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Conversations, M/M, Past Pain, Star Trek V: The Final Frontier, long-term friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-01
Updated: 2017-05-01
Packaged: 2018-10-26 14:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10788564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esperata/pseuds/Esperata
Summary: During the five year mission, Spock and McCoy each suffer from haunting memories they can't yet discuss. Time heals all wounds though if you can be patient enough.





	Will You Be There

**Author's Note:**

> A random something while I work on fleshing out too many other ideas.

**Captain’s log supplemental:**  
The crew are still experiencing negative side-effects from the area of space we are currently mapping. Though the cause is unknown, all crew appear to be experiencing the same symptoms of nightmares and flashbacks, occurring suddenly and unexpectedly. The degree of severity varies widely.  
Medical staff are all working overtime to provide counselling and sleep aids. I have received reports that our Chief Medical Officer is literally going out of his way to assess the state of the crew… 

Kirk turned off the recording and tapped his fingers on the armrest. He hadn’t lied exactly in his report but he’d been very careful in his wording.

What the nurses and doctors had actually told him was that, although McCoy checked in regularly with them by comm, they hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him in sickbay for the past two days.

He wasn’t shirking his duty – there were no emergencies for him to deal with there and he was in fact doing rounds to ensure every crewmember received support – but Jim knew the doctor too well to be fooled. Normally the territorial doctor hated to leave his sickbay in anyone else’s hands, no matter how capable. So why wasn’t he there now when they were overrun?

True, a significant number of the crew weren’t reporting their problems and were therefore not receiving any help coping. It was symptomatic of a lot of Starfleet recruits to tough out any sort of psychological ailment. They thought admitting to anxiety, depression or stress showed weakness. It didn’t matter how often they were told asking for help was a sign of strength. They’d nod then tough it out anyway.

So, McCoy turning up at their door would benefit them in the long run.

Jim suddenly wondered who was monitoring the doctor’s health at this point. Was that why he was avoiding sickbay? Because Christine was ferocious in her attempts to keep the doctor from working himself ragged?

Who had ensured he’d taken regular meal breaks? Or any breaks at all. Had he gone off shift to rest even? Jim knew McCoy would probably keep going until either the crisis passed or he actually collapsed.

There was only one option really.

“Bridge to McCoy,” he spoke into the comm on his chair rest and waited for Bones to answer from wherever he was.

“McCoy here. What is it Jim?”

The doctor sounded frazzled. Jim could imagine his face looking haggard and pale, with bags under his pale eyes. If Christine caught sight of him like that she’d probably sedate him and lay him out on a cot to get some well needed rest.

“Bones. I need you to check in at sickbay.” Jim thought quickly. “The medical staff have been pulling double and triple shifts. Get in there and make sure your team are taking care of themselves too.”

“They know the regulations,” Bones answered somewhat irately. “They don’t need me there.”

“ _I_ need you there,” Jim answered promptly. “Just stick your head in and check everything’s alright.”

There was a pause before McCoy finally replied.

“Alright. I’ll stop by there when I’m done here.”

He cut communication and Jim looked across to where Spock had been eavesdropping.

“Perhaps you’d better head down to sickbay yourself,” Kirk suggested. “Let me know if Bones doesn’t turn up in the next quarter of an hour.”

“A wise precaution Captain,” Spock answered, rising from his seat. “The doctor has been known to forget such agreements previously.”

*

Spock had arrived to find sickbay busy with people coming and going.

Few of the crew actually needed any in depth treatment – although two people were laid on biobeds having their sleep monitored – but practically everyone on board was requesting sleep aids or therapy sessions.

He was aware that a number of volunteers had stepped forward to talk to others about traumatic memories resurfacing. Those who had received help themselves were keen to make sure others received similar help now. It was an inspiring example of the crew pulling together in a crisis.

As First Officer, Spock had perused the service records of the crew and taken note of those more likely to suffer in the present circumstances. Those with a history of post-traumatic stress or personal tragedies. He had not been surprised to note that sickbay had prioritised tending to those individuals first.

He had been mildly surprised when Jim had spoken to him at their last chess match about his experiences on Tarsus IV. Spock was unsure he was the right person to seek help from and had actually suggested Jim confide in McCoy instead. Emotional issues were definitely more the doctor’s area.

However Jim had smiled and said all he needed was an open ear. Besides which he didn’t want to add to Bones’ worries right now.

So Spock wondered about how the good doctor was coping with the present crisis as he waited. He would undoubtedly be annoyed that he could do nothing to stop the problem at the source and had to content himself with treating the symptoms. He would also certainly be neglecting his own care.

It was a most illogical habit of the doctor’s that just when he was needed in peak condition was when he inevitably forgot to eat or rest. Although Spock had noted McCoy seemed uncannily able to run on pure adrenaline for far longer than expected, it inexorably ended with a complete collapse on the doctor’s part.

Spock resolved that since Nurse Chapel was currently occupied, it was clearly his responsibility to convince Doctor McCoy to seek sleep and nourishment.

The doors swished open again and this time Doctor McCoy himself stepped inside. Spock was about to approach him when he stopped, momentarily startled.

He had expected to see the doctor looking pale, tired, unsteady even, but not this.

McCoy had been hesitant about entering sickbay and had been wiping his hands on his smock, clearly trying to absorb the excess moisture there. His eyes were too wide and the pupils were unnaturally dilated. Spock could hear his breathing – heavy and getting shorter by the second. The doctor looked about but it was clear he wasn’t registering anything or anyone around him. Until his eyes fixed on the nearby empty biobed and there was a noticeable hitch to his already laboured breathing. His eyes were nothing short of wild.

Spock managed to move as he realised that McCoy had started hyperventilating.

“Doctor!” He gripped McCoy firmly but the other man was struggling to breathe and didn’t seem to recognise him. “Breathe Doctor,” he instructed.

“Leonard!” Christine’s voice broke Spock’s concentration and he realised the nurse had joined them.

McCoy’s breath was too short now though and he suddenly went limp, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he passed out. Spock promptly caught him before he could fall and injure himself.

“Over here,” Christine suggested, gesturing to the empty biobed.

“Negative,” Spock shifted the doctor so he could hold him more comfortably. “I believe he has suffered a panic attack due to this location. It would be logical to remove him before he regains consciousness.”

Christine seemed about to argue but her eyes quickly flickered around the busy sickbay. It was well known that McCoy hated to be confined to a sickbay bed, especially when there were other patients who might need it.

“I shall tend to him in his quarters,” Spock suggested and Chapel relented.

“Alright. I’ll entrust him to your care Mister Spock.”

He nodded an acknowledgement and then carried the doctor out.

He had intended taking the doctor to McCoy’s quarters but as he stopped outside he hesitated again. It was unclear what had induced McCoy’s panic attack but sickbay was a familiar location and it was possible that it was that very familiarity that caused the panic. It was only logical to avoid any undue risk with the doctor’s health in such a delicate balance.

So thinking, Spock stepped further along the corridor and took the doctor into his own room.

Laying the quiet man out on his own bed, Spock moved through to the comm unit in the other room.

“Spock to the bridge,” he announced.

“Kirk here,” Jim responded promptly.

“Captain. The doctor’s health has deteriorated more than we anticipated. I have removed him to quarters and shall monitor him here.”

“Is he okay?”

“Unclear at present. He is resting. With your permission I shall await his awakening and ascertain his fitness for duty at that time.”

“Of course Spock. Just focus on taking care of him. We’ll call you if we need you.”

Kirk cut the connection and Spock considered his report.

It had been factual and yet he recognised he had misled the captain. Specifically, he had not told Jim whose quarters he had removed McCoy to.

Spock decided this was logical as the doctor was likely to be embarrassed by the circumstances enough without any added details being related.

Satisfied with this assessment, Spock settled down to await McCoy’s waking.

*

McCoy awoke with a pleasant blank feeling. That wonderful moment between opening your eyes and actually remembering.

As it happened, he was sufficiently distracted by the view he encountered that the act of remembering took a backseat.

“Where in hell am I?” he grumbled, eyes darting about the unfamiliar artefacts.

“You are in my quarters Doctor.”

The familiar voice brought McCoy swinging upright, eyes wide as he stared across to the Vulcan in the doorway.

“What am I doing here?!” His voice held a note of panic. He honestly had no memory of coming here. Last thing he clearly recalled was walking the halls of the _Enterprise_.

“You suffered a collapse in sickbay. It seemed prudent to remove you to a location where you could be monitored out of the way of the current crisis.”

McCoy fell silent as his memories of that embarrassment resurfaced. He coughed awkwardly and stood.

“Well, I guess I was pushing myself a little hard. I feel much better for that rest. Best sleep I’ve had for a while.” He attempted a grin but Spock didn’t appear moved. He certainly didn’t step aside from the doorway.

“If that was the best sleep you have managed since this predicament began then I have even more reason to be concerned.”

McCoy glared at the Vulcan blocking his escape.

“It’s fine. _I’m_ fine. Just overworked is all.” McCoy found he couldn’t hold the Vulcan’s gaze through that little speech.

“Doctor. You clearly suffered a panic attack due to your surroundings. Given that you were in sickbay and that your duties primarily require your presence in that location it would be illogical to allow you to return to active duty until such time as this issue has been addressed.”

There was a heavy silence.

“I’m off active duty?” the doctor finally queried.

“Until I am satisfied you are no longer at risk of any further attacks,” Spock confirmed.

McCoy sat down on the bed again with a heavy sigh.

“It’s not a _problem_ ,” he insisted stubbornly.

There was a lengthy pause before Spock spoke again.

“I am given to understand that humans feel better if they relate their… anxieties… to a third party. If this would help you, I am willing to, as the captain says, lend an ear.”

McCoy smiled wryly but couldn’t muster up the energy to take the pro-offered bait and mock the hobgoblin’s pointy ears.

“I know that Spock. I _am_ a doctor. I’ve been prescribing counselling for half the crew and acting as a friendly ear for most of them anyway.”

“Then I fail to understand why you are not seeking the same relief for yourself.”

“Because…” McCoy ran a frustrated hand through his hair and wondered how he could explain this. “I _can’t_ talk about it,” he finally admitted.

Spock’s silence clearly conveyed his confusion.

“It ain’t ‘toughing it out’ or denial… I know those memories are lurking and I really should deal with them but… I _can’t_.”

McCoy looked up to meet Spock’s concerned gaze and willed the Vulcan to understand. He wasn’t trying to be difficult.

“But if they are causing you difficulties in your ability to work…” Spock began.

“They don’t! Not usually,” McCoy amended. “Have you ever seen me have a reaction like that before? It’s only this damn Bermuda triangle in space causing it.”

Spock seemed willing to concede that point but he wasn’t about to let McCoy leave it at that.

“I still fail to understand why you do not seek help in dealing with these upsetting memories.”

McCoy let out a sigh.

“Because 90% of the time I don’t even think about them being there. I function perfectly well, I laugh and joke, it’s not a _problem_ ,” he repeated. “And the other 10% is usually only quite temporary. Dredged up by a passing remark or a freak de ja vu moment. I can deal with it.”

“You mean you can bury it,” Spock corrected sternly.

McCoy glared.

“It’s worked well enough up ‘til now,” he insisted before turning the argument back onto the Vulcan. “Don’t you have any events from your past that you deliberately avoid thinking about? Moments you wished you’d acted differently? Words spoken in haste? Loved ones lost?”

The doctor’s eyes flickered away, knowing his own eyes would give him away too much. The silence continued longer than McCoy expected and he looked back to see Spock staring intently at his feet. He cursed himself.

“I didn’t mean to drag up unpleasant memories, Spock,” he apologised softly. “Just wanted you to understand why perhaps I couldn’t talk about some things.”

Spock looked up and studied the doctor’s face a long few seconds before nodding in understanding.

“There are indeed areas of my past which I am forbidden to remember. The memories… are painful.”

For a brief eternity, the two simply looked at each other, recognising the similar deep pain locked away in them both. It was comforting to realise that though the details may still be unspoken, the awareness of that pain was shared and acknowledged.

Then McCoy stood up again.

“Thanks for this Spock.” He gestured to indicate the bed and the chat.

“You are most welcome Doctor.” Spock inclined his head and stepped backwards to allow the doctor to exit. “I shall recommend you are allowed to continue making rounds while M’Benga and the rest of your medical team maintain sickbay.”

McCoy smiled in thanks and moved to leave the Vulcan’s quarters.

“Doctor,” Spock called softly before he moved too far. “If ever you feel ready to address your memories… know that I shall always be there to listen.”

McCoy looked back and into the Vulcan’s eyes and in that moment, he felt closer to Spock than he’d ever felt to anyone and his smile was both genuine and unreserved.

“You’ll be the first one I call,” he assured him. “And if ever you need an ear… well, I’ll be there for you too, y’hear?”

“I do indeed,” Spock replied sincerely.

_Twenty years later_

Spock was stood alone, looking out at the empty planet, when McCoy approached him quietly.

“I’m sorry about your brother,” he said, at once regretting the inanity of the words, knowing they were insufficient. Spock, needless to say, made no comment.

“If you want to talk,” McCoy blundered on before realising he was only digging himself in deeper.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”

As he turned to leave though, Spock finally replied.

“You offered once before to listen if ever I wanted to speak of Sybok.”

McCoy blinked.

“I, ah, don’t remember that,” he confessed. “Never knew you even had a brother ‘til a few days ago.”

“We spoke long ago,” Spock told him, “of painful memories. I referred to memories I could not then speak of.”

Spock’s dark but human eyes met McCoy’s and the doctor suddenly remembered.

He recalled waking in the Vulcan’s rooms, Spock trying to help him, _comfort_ him, and him being unable to accept it. He never forgot though.

McCoy smiled.

“I remember,” he said softly. “You said you’d always be willing to listen if ever I was ready to speak.”

“I understand now,” Spock answered. “You referred then to your father’s passing.”

“I did,” McCoy confirmed.

Silence fell as the last few secrets between them drifted away.

“If you, ah, want to talk about Sybok…” McCoy offered hesitantly.

Spock inclined his head in silent agreement.

“I should be honoured to hear more about your father,” he offered in return.

McCoy nodded, for the first time feeling safe enough to share those memories.

“My quarters?” Spock suggested.

“It would seem appropriate,” McCoy agreed with a smile.

With a flicker of a smile himself, Spock joined the doctor and led the way.

**Author's Note:**

> Because there's a box in my mind I don't dare open.


End file.
